


In Those Crystal Rills

by alutiv



Series: Four Seasons [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mostly Fluff, Non-Penetrative Sex, Shower Sex, Summer, Three-Flat Problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:57:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alutiv/pseuds/alutiv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>More noise than breeze comes through the open windows in the sultry afternoons.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [in the gardens and the graves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/968291) by [alutiv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alutiv/pseuds/alutiv). 



More noise than breeze comes through the open windows in the sultry afternoons. Greg folds the paper and tosses it on the coffee table, drops his head back, closes his eyes. After what feels like no time at all, he startles out of his doze, sitting forward and opening his eyes to find John, shirt in hand, chest and legs streaked with dirt and sweat, standing just inside the door. 

"Shit." John's mouth twists into a wry smile. "I was trying not to wake you." 

Greg shrugs. "Good match?" 

John swipes the back of his hand across his forehead, smearing dirt above his eyebrows. 

" _Great_ match." He sniffs. "Eugh," he grunts, "I'm filthy." 

Greg leers at him. "Hardly news." 

John rolls his eyes and tosses the balled-up shirt at Greg's head as he passes. Batting it away, Greg leans back in his chair, smirking when John pauses, huffs out a breath, and turns back. Greg admires the muscles shifting under skin just beginning to tan, starburst of scar tissue pulling at the shoulder as John scoops the shirt up. Greg catches the waistband of John's rugby shorts, forcing John to step closer. 

"You _really_ don't want to keep me from that shower, but I wouldn't object to some company." 

Greg grins and draws his hand back, suddenly seeing the shower's appeal.


	2. Chapter 2

Greg closes his eyes again, listening to the whoosh and splash from the shower. In his mind's eye, water sluices over John's shoulders and back, carrying away the grime. His eyes are closed, head tipped back, hands stroking soap over skin pinking quickly in the heat. Greg's breath catches in his throat, and he pushes himself up out of the chair, leaving a trail of clothes behind as he follows John. 

John smiles without even opening his eyes when Greg twitches the curtain aside and steps in. 

"Took you long enough," John says. 

"Thought you might like a few minutes to actually clean up. I could go, if you'd rather." 

John grabs his arm, skin slippery on skin. "Don't you dare." 

Greg grins, taking the soap from John. "Turn around," he says. "I'll do your back." 

John smirks, but he turns and presses his hands to the white tile. His soft laughter turns into a groan at the soap pressing into his shoulder blades and down his back. Then the pressure disappears, but before he can turn around again, Greg's hands brush over his skin, kneading into tight muscles all the way down. He sighs, stiffening even as those strong hands urge him to relax. He doesn't know when or how it happened, but Greg's very touch has become a balm.


	3. Chapter 3

Greg shifts, allowing the spray to create soapy rills down John's arched back. Greg can't resist the temptation to give that firm arse a good squeeze, prompting a moan that goes straight to his cock. He wraps his arms around John, presses skin to skin. John's fingers flex against the tile. Greg rolls his hips, sliding himself into John's cleft, bracing his weight with one hand next to John's on the tile. His other hand roams over warm, damp flesh, teasing nipples to stiff peaks as John gasps and bucks beneath him. Blunt nails drag down John's torso to the soft thatch of hair. Greg curls his hand around John's erection; his breath hitches.

They fall into a rhythm, Greg sliding between John's buttocks, John thrusting into Greg's hand.

"Yes," John pants, "yes, yes," all other words lost for the moment.

Greg grazes his teeth over the soft nape of John's neck, flicks his thumb over the leaking head of John's cock, smearing pre-ejaculate down the shaft. He speeds up his strokes, and John throws his head back as he comes, spattering the tiles. Greg grips John's hips with both hands and ruts against him, shouting with his own release.

John turns and presses a kiss to Greg's lips, gentle hands stroking under the cooling water until they're both rinsed clean.

**Author's Note:**

> This summer day falls between chapters 2 and 3 of "in the gardens and the graves".
> 
> "In those crystal rills" is from [A Summer Shower](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/178791) by Henry Timrod.
> 
> Hat-tip to LapOtter and corpsereviver2, as always, for the "three-flat problem" format. Thanks to overthemoon for the quick beta and to the denizens of AntiDiogenes for the encouragement in writing my first "explicit" fic.


End file.
